I prefer my psychics all-knowing, all-seeing and packing a GPS at all times.
This year, they got the message because Julia was prompt and ready to offer readings during the second annual, all-witchy house party. (Love me a blue cocktail filled with eyeball ice cubes.)
I'm always a little reluctant to bare my palms to strangers, but bare I did. Here are the psychic's observations, followed by my unspoken responses:
Your lifeline shows you living beyond 80 -- 82, 83, maybe.
Thank you! That is a bodacious lifetime. Time to reign in the chocolate, the red meat, the Chardonnay and the chocolate. Maybe ride Charlie's bike? Run like Connie? Definitely get better gym shoes. Find an inexhaustible Labrador Retriever. Oh, look! Our hostess is bringing out spider brownies. Yum!
I have a sense that you work with computers.
I do. That is freaky. I've been putting images in search engines since 2001. Of course, everyone works with computers.
There is something about farms surrounding you?
My husband's family. They've been southern Illinois farmers since Heinrich left Germany and started plowing up Clinton County before the Civil War. And our daughter teaches riding at a barn. So, yes, we are literally down to earth, now that you mention it.
Lady, you've got your esp on today. I will give you that.
You've lost someone fairly recently. And there have been marriage break-ups?
Yes and yes. My family. His family.
There will be change next year. A big change. Possibly a move.
St. Barth's sounds like a plan.
Do you have any questions for me?
(Other than Lotto numbers?) What about my career? Will I have one? Is it too late?
I see that you had a career, a very strong one. But it was blocked. Blocked by you.
Interesting choice of words.
And then I went in search of a cocktail.
Nearly everyone I spoke with was a little uneasy with the psychic's specificity. It was a bit otherworldly.
Next year, I'm definitely going to ask for Lotto numbers, especially if I've got all those many, many years ahead of me.